Elegance
by hotforteacher
Summary: "Elegance is when the inside is as beautiful as the outside." - Coco Channel


**A little snippet I thought of during the Christmas Special. That bit with the girdle was hilarious! Reminds me of putting on my jeans post pregnancy. Lol!**

 **A bit steamy in some parts but nothing too explicit. I'm sure you can use your imagination! ;)**

 **Italics implies character's thoughts.**

* * *

"Shelagh!" Patrick peeks in through the many room of their house, quietly calling out for his wife. _She said she would wait up_. Exhausting his efforts down stairs, he races up to the second landing to find her.

Here, he is extra careful not to wake the children he helped put down. Sneaking a peek into Teddy's newly acquired room first, he halts his search to give his youngest son a quick kiss on the forehead. Next stop is Angela's room, where she is sleeping just as soundly as her brother.

The second to last room he checks is Tim's, where he finds his oldest propped up in his bed engrossed in a book. "Oy! Do you know where your mum is at?"

"After you left, she went straight to your room." Just as his dad was about to leave, the younger Turner calls out, "Dad! You have to talk to her! She's driving me mad with all this talk of leakage, and girdles, and… you know…," he softens his voice, "breastfeeding."

"Believe it or not, Tim, your mummy used to talk about the same things when you were a baby."

"Yes, but I'm not a baby now! I am fully able to comprehend everything that she is saying and it's downright embarrassing." At his dad's lighthearted chuckle, Tim rolls his eyes, " You don't help!"

Walking in fully to Tim's room, he sits in the edge of the bed and says, "She's not saying these things to embarrass you. She's just simply excited to have experienced them in the first place."

"I know, and for the most part I don't mind," he concedes with a sigh. "But don't expect me to bring my friends home if this keeps up."

Patrick laughs again, "Deal." Just as he get up from the bed, he stops and amends, "unless you're bringing home a girl for us to meet." At Timothy's groan, Patrick adds, "Then I'll make sure your mum will talk about all the wonderful things childbirth actually brings."

Tim squints his eyes, "You wouldn't."

He shrugs his shoulders, "It's the best form of family planning I can think of."

Rolling his eyes, Timothy switches off his lamp and turns over in his bed. "Good night, Patrick." He smirks as his head hits the pillow.

Rolling his own eyes as he closes the door with a soft snap, Patrick wonders for the millionth time why his son's new found obsession into calling him by his name annoys him so. Stepping into his bedroom, thoughts of the children and the actual miracle that happened tonight leaves his mind as he catches his wife standing half naked in front of the mirror.

"Oh, Patrick," she exclaims turning towards her husband, "I'm so glad you're here." Thrusting the scissors she had been holding out for him to take, she asks, "Can you do a favor for me?"

"Shelagh, our children are all asleep for the first time in a few months and you are currently in nothing but your undergarments. I would do anything for you right now." Looking down at the scissors in his palm, he asks, "But I am curious as to why you are in need of scissors?"

"I need for you to cut this girdle off," she states matter-of-factly with a hint of blush creeping along her cheeks.

At a complete loss of words, he stutters, "Wh… what?!"

"This damn girdle is on so tight that I can't even get it off!"

His brow furrows, "You just said damn."

She takes a full minute to stare at him with rapidly blinking eyes. "Patrick, do you understand that my toes are starting to become numb, my skin has been pinched and pulled all day long, and my small intestines have probably all been rearranged." Her voice takes on a deadly whisper. "And all you seem to care about is that I said the word 'damn'."

Patrick swallows hard, "I, umm, don't want to ruin them."

She takes another full moment to just blink at him.

Growing unease under her stare, he turns and sits on the edge of the bed. "Well, come here then," he opens his arms and beckons her to step closer, "and, if you wouldn't mind, taking off your brassiere."

She stops her movement and huffs, "Why?"

He captures the back of her thighs to bring her the rest of the distance. "One favor for the other." When he feels her eyes burning the back of his neck, he glances up and gives her a boyishly crooked smile. "I want to see you naked."

Rolling her eyes, she reaches behind her back and unhooks her brassiere. Letting it fall onto the floor, she looks at him and coyly murmurs, "Better?"

For the past few months since their son was born, the only time he has been able to see her breasts are when she is feeding. Now he is able to enjoy the view of them all to himself. _Calm down, Patrick_.

Pulling the bottom hem of her girdle out, he slides the tip of his scissors in and begins his work. Going at a slow pace, he makes sure not the poke her with the tip or to cut her skin.

Peeling it away, he furrows his perfected doctor brow when he sees the angry red lines on her skin. "I'm glad now I cut this away," he lightly traces his fingers along the imprinted lines from the seams. "Please don't ever wear these damn things again." Leaning in, he kisses her stomach and then her hip.

Enjoying the lost touch of her husband, her eyes slip close as a soft moan escapes her lips.

Dropping the scissors to the floor, his palm slides around the curve of her waist to bring her between his knees. "Oh, Shelagh…," he murmurs along her exposed skin, "you are so beautiful."

Threading her fingers through his unruly hair, she trembles when she feels his fingers itch under the band of her white, cotton panties.

Leaning back a bit, he pushes down her simple panties. Stealing a moment to take in her natural beauty, he glances up and coarsely mumbles, "Do you know how beautiful you are?"

At her silence, he answers for her, "Your beauty goes beyond the top layer of your skin. Your heart carries so much love for all those around you. Your body carried and delivered our child, while your hands cared for the children we already have. Your beauty from within matches the beauty you have on the outside and I am the luckiest man in the world that I found you on that foggy road just over five years ago."

Clambering onto the mattress with her knees, she wraps her arms around her neck and crashes her lips onto his. The feel of his scratchy, woolen clothes has delectable effects on her body by electrifying every nerve ending and sending shoots of desire towards her center.

Shivering under the gentle touches of her husbands calloused finger tips, she gathers the courage to stand from her cozy spot on his lap to demand, "Take off your pants."

Not even taking the time to think about her words, Patrick stands and divests himself of both his pant and underwear.

"Sit back down," she says as he tries to reach out for her. Straddling his hips as she climbs back onto the mattress, she takes him in immediately.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, his forehead falls to her shoulder as he moans out her name. He kisses the soft curve of her neck once, twice, three times before marking a lazy trail down to her breasts.

Cantering her hips to move at faster pace when she feels his finger tips digging into the malleable curve of her backside, she whispers down, "Be gentle," as his tongue lavishly circles her taunt peak. Tipping her head back, she threads her fingers through the hair along his neck as she continues to move at a dizzying pace.

After their muffled moans of passion softens against their bedroom walls, she cushions her cheek into the back of his head after he lays his forehead back onto her shoulder.

"I love you," she whispers.

"I love you," he murmurs into her damp skin.

Glancing down at the pile of clothes that circles around them, she sighs, "I will need to get a new girdle."

Abruptly leaning back, he charges, "Like hell you will. That thing is a medieval torture device and I'll be damned if you buy more."

"Patrick," she groans as a slight shiver runs up her spine, "it's meant to help flatten some of the curves I still have from Teddy."

"You don't need to flatten these exquisite, delicious, stunning curves. Your body – your beautiful body – gave us our son. I don't want this… girdle," he spats down towards the floor, "hiding your natural beauty anymore." At the sight of her blushing cheeks, he reaches up and caresses them with the side of his thumb. "I will go and buy you something in replace of that repugnant thing."

"You will," her voice trembles with desire. Her thoughts of going to see Mrs. Buckle to put in an order for more girdles falls to the wayside as his fingers on her back resume their tracing from before she asked him to remove his pants.

"I will need your measurements of course, but I assure you, it will be respectful enough for you to wear underneath your everyday clothes."

She leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth, "Goodness, I hope not." She slyly smiles as his quick intake of breath before climbing off of his lap. "Come along, Patrick. I'll take care of putting the scissors away safely while you take care of putting our clothing in our closet." She kisses his cheek again, "I'll meet you under the covers in thirty seconds."

Gathering all the clothing from the floor, he runs – more like trips over his own excited feet – to their closet and unceremoniously throws them along with his shirt and tie in. Turning towards his wife already waiting for him, he takes a second to think if he is going to tell her of the miracle that had taken him away for the evening.

Shaking his head, he resides to tell her after he has properly kissed her subtle grin from her lips.

* * *

"Shelagh!" Patrick winces as he slams the door rather loudly in his haste. "Shelagh!"

Stomping through the living room with his bag swirling around his legs, he tries to stamp down the arousal he's been fighting since entering the lingerie store a few hours prior. "Shelagh!"

Pushing open the door to the kitchen, all thoughts of his wife pictured in the new undergarments that he had just bought flies out of his head as he finds Sister Julienne rocking little Teddy and sipping from a cup of tea.

"Apparently, your beautiful baby boy is already used to your exclamations to find his mummy, that he is still fast asleep." She smiles kindly when she notices that he has grown pale. "Shelagh went down to the corner store to buy more sugar," she simply explains. "She should be back soon."

Closing his mouth to wet his parched throat, he gives her a weak smile as he tries to hide his bag behind his legs.

"I hope those are more galoshes, gloves, or scarves. The meteorologist has just called for more snow."

Feeling his ear burn red in embarrassment, he shakes his head and lamely stutters, "I'll, uhhh, I'll just put these where, uhhh…"

"Patrick?" Shelagh innocently calls out from the front door as she kicks off the snow from her boots.

Stumbling back, narrowly missing the corner of the door by a mere centimeter, Patrick all but stampedes to his wife's location. "Shelagh, oh Thank God you're here!"

Furrowing her brow, she looks down at the bag crinkling against his leg and she understands her husbands unusual haste. "Is that…," she steps closer to peek into the bag. Glancing up through her lashes, she gives him a coy smile. "Let me–"

"No!" He grabs her wrist and pulls her towards the stairs. "I want to see it on you," he begs.

Pulling her arm from his grasp, she takes a step down, "Patrick, not now. We still–"

"My dear Shelagh, I hate to disturb you, but I do have to get back to Nonnatus House." Sister Julienne rocks the sleeping baby back and forth in her arms as she walks up to the distracted couple. _I'm not blind_ , she tells herself.

Shelagh, for her part, looks properly mortified while Patrick tries, once again, to hide the bag behind his legs.

"Here," Sister Julienne calls out, "I'll take the sugar to the kitchen while you take Teddy up to his sleeping cot."

Spurring her into action, Shelagh shakes her head, "I'm sorry, Sister. I'll take this to the kitchen. Patrick can get Teddy from you to put him down." Looking over to her husband on her way towards the kitchen, she calls to him with the tilt of her head, "Patrick, if you will."

Dropping the bag onto the stair, he holds out his hands to take Teddy into his arms.

"You know," Sister Julienne can't help but chide, "in my twenty plus years of being a midwife in the Poplar area, you are not the first husband I have seen with more of a keen eye towards his wife who had just given birth." She readjusts the blanket of the baby as thoughts of Mrs. Tillerson somehow sneaks its way into her mind. "Just make sure that keenness never goes away."

With the sound of thudding cabinets mirroring the beat of his heart against his chest, Patrick swallows his embarrassment and nods, "My love for her will never waver, not even in the slightest."

Sister Julienne smiles at the familiar words he used so long ago when he had come to her and Sister Evangelina seeking permission to marry their former sister. "Yes, you had said that once before," she murmurs as she reaches for her mac.

"What did you say before," Shelagh asks as she makes her way back to the foyer.

"How welcomed I am in your house," Sister Julienne supplies. "Have a good day." Opening the door, she makes her way out and waves to Timothy as he walks by with his sister in his arms.

* * *

"Shelagh," Patrick exclaims, "come out already. I want to see you!" Ever since Sister Julienne left, their day has been nonstop with Angela's sniffles at the resurrected pantomime, Teddy's feeding schedule, dinner, and a war of wit over the American Spock and how it's embarrassing to 16 – about to turn 17 – young men.

Now, as the clock is just about to strike eleven, Patrick waits like a excited puppy dog for Shelagh to model off the lingerie he bought her.

Silently thanking the good Lord for discretely putting in her order of two girdles at the haberdashery, she twirls around once more before stepping out for her husband to see.

Patrick, salivating at the thought of his wife in silk and lace, nearly bursts when she walks out. "Bloody hell," he murmurs as he feels his mouth dry.

"The fit is excellent," she murmurs as her busy hands trace down her bare sides, "yet, I wouldn't necessarily wear this under my nurses uniform." Her black, lacy panties sits snuggly just under her waist as the matching brassiere does wonders to her cleavage.

"I want you to wear it the first time you put your uniform back on."

"Patrick!" She captures her hips with her palms. "Not when it's this cold outside. Besides what if someone sees?"

His brow furrows in contemplation, "Who will see?"

At a loss of words herself, she shakes her head, "What if there's an emergency?"

"I don't think you or anyone around you will worry about what you are wearing underneath during an emergency." He holds out his hand, beckoning her to step closer to him from his perch at the edge of their bed. "Besides, I think your first day back as a nurse is going to be with me at the surgery." Capturing her hips, he lightly traces the shaded patterns along her panties with his thumbs. "I'll need you close by."

Threading her fingers through his mused hair, she moans, "I told you that that one time in the supply closet was our last time."

He leans in and kisses the small stretch of skin just above the band of black silk. "No offense, Shelagh, but you have been saying that since the time we snuck a quickie just after we got married."

She knows that he is correct, but it's stopped them on numerous occasions from embarrassing themselves when a patient or a nurse or a nun decided to walk in a moment later. _But, I'll keep that secret to myself_. "Thank you for buying this for me."

"You are every bit as worth it, my love." Peeking up along the sharp curves of her body, Patrick continues his gentle assault along her supple skin.


End file.
